"Children have rights that adults do not have, and these rights come before the rights of adults." Janne Haaland Matlary.
"Neither of us are allowed to leave the house without Darcy's permission. He gets mad if something happens without his permission." Angeline navigated the part of the house left to them expertly. From what Reid gathered, the unsub often locked her and her current 'caretaker' in this half of the house while he was at work. Angeline still hadn't said what the unsub did for a living, but judging by the house, it would have to be something lucrative. Maybe the head of a successful business, a private doctor, a private lawyer, or something of the like.
"What does he do when he's mad?"
Angeline spared him a glance before pushing another door open. "Depends on who got him mad." She gestured for him to go in ahead of her. "This is your room."
He hesitated, pursing his lips, and then walked inside.
The room was… sterile. Clean. The white sheets and covers were new on a modern wood double bed, the wooden dresser was polished and stained the same shade of neutral golden-brown as the bed and floorboards, the bare wood floor was without any scuff marks, and there was a table besides the bed with a tall white lamp with a white lampshade. It really looked like a room in a hotel, except for two things.
One, there were no windows. Two, there were shackles on both of the bedposts at the foot of the bed.
Angeline saw where his eyes went. "You only need to wear them at night, and if he likes you, he might let you stop after a while." She pointed at the dresser. "There are clothes in there. My room is down the hall. Come talk to me when you get dressed."
Then she was gone. Just a swish of white as she turned away, and the door closed behind her. Reid hardly noticed.
His eyes were still fixed on the shackles.
Now that the child was gone, he allowed himself to gulp. He sat down on the edge of the hotel-like bed, hugging the foreign bathrobe closer to himself and continuing to stare. Trapped. He was trapped.
He closed his eyes, reviewing the last good memory he had of his team. JJ's wedding, the night before they had taken the case in North Dakota. Dancing with Emily, Garcia, and JJ; sharing drinks with Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi (and getting lots of drunken hugs and pecks on the cheek when Rossi had one too many); showing Jack and Henry magic tricks and watching their eyes light up…
He reviewed every conversation he had had on that night, all the sights and sounds, the cool night air. Seeing Hotch smiling so much with Jack and Beth… Rossi warbling Italian love poetry and dancing with all the women… Garcia finally dancing with Kevin again and relaxing once more… JJ in that beautiful dress…
Once again, he tucked the memories away in his heart. He took a deep breath, then opened up the drawer.
All the clothes were nice, mainly made of silk, but were generic small sizes. He pulled on a white shirt and black pants, shivering at the feeling of the soft fabric on his skin. It felt like some of those really expensive clothes Rossi liked to give him on special occasions. (His mouth twitched at the memories of Rossi. The man loved spending money spoiling his family on those occasions.)
Then, with that in place, he left the shackles behind and walked down the hall to Angeline's room.
The door was open. Angeline's room was a thousand times more luxurious than his own. Her room was purely white with happy lights lining the walls, a plush queen-sized bed, a large dresser with a big mirror, and a chest of drawers. Angeline, previously lying on her bed, perked up when he came in and gave him a smile.
"Hey there." Reid stood awkwardly by the doorway, unsure of what do say, but he needed answers. "…Do you know exactly what I'm going to be doing here?"
"Take care of me." Angeline hugged her knees. "You know. Teach me stuff, tuck me in, do my hair, things like that."
Reid arched an eyebrow. "Do you know why you don't have a regular babysitter to handle that?"
She shrugged, pulling at her braid and playing with it. "Darcy said they're not good enough."
Reid furrowed his brow. Whatever the reason, the girl wasn't privy to it. "Two more questions, okay?"
She looked up at him, then nodded. "I'll answer if I can."
He swallowed, his eyes darting around her room again. There weren't any family photographs. Not of the unsub, not of a mother, not of herself, nothing. There weren't any photos around the house in general, for that matter. "How long was I… was I in that cell?"
His eyes finally rested on hers. Her mouth was a straight, illegible line. She remembered just as well as he did the generosity she showed. Somehow, Reid had a feeling that the unsub would not have approved.
"I don't know." She pushed herself off her bed, averting her eyes. "I just found out about you about a two weeks ago."
"Two weeks?"
He'd been missing for over two weeks.
"Yeah. Something like that. It's hard to keep track of time here." She settled her gaze back on him. "What about the other question?"
The BAU was surely still looking for him. Morgan had hunted Doyle down for three months for the sake of revenge; they wouldn't stop before finding one of their members if they thought he was alive. "Where are we?"
"Minnesota." Minnesota? "I don't really know more than that, though."
She took his wrist, tugging him along behind her as she walked into the hall, but then she paused. Quietly, she asked, "Don't tell Darcy I asked, but what's your name?"
He looked down at the child, appraising her. Did she understand what was happening? Did she understand what it meant to have a name? "Spencer Reid."
"Nice to meet you, Spencer. I'll call you that when Darcy isn't around if you promise not to tell, okay?" She squeezed his wrist. "Play with me?"
Reid bit his lower lip. He'd find a way out. When he did, he'd find a way to help the girl, too. Just as she had helped him. "Sure. Sure, I'll play."
Reid didn't know how much time went by before the unsub unlocked the kitchen door. It was hard to keep track of time with no clocks and few windows.
The two of them were in the media room, the room with a TV and walls lined with books, at the time. Angeline heard him first. She perked up, her eyes focused on the wall behind Reid, then she jumped to her feet, shoving Reid towards the couch and kicking the deck of cards they had been playing with under the couch. When the unsub walked into the living room, a bewildered Reid had an open book in his hands and Angeline was practically lying on his lap, focusing on the random page she had opened to.
It was a good thing she had done so. The unsub looked nothing like the (falsely) smiling man who had left them earlier.
Reid looked up at his face, careful to not make eye contact. Green eyes focused on Angeline, and the unsub made a sharp motion with his head towards the door. "Go practice your music, Angeline."
She wiggled away from Reid immediately, jumping off the couch and going to the door. She only spared a moment to glance at the agent, her mouth set in a neutral line, before she was gone.
The unsub stared at Reid, then with one arm, grabbed the back of one of the cushioned armchairs and swung it around to face the couch—a wanton show of strength probably meant to be intimidating—and sat down. His shoulders were squared and his eyes were fixed on Reid's, challenging him to make eye contact.
Instead, Reid's gaze just darted along the unsub's body. Very good, expensive clothes—a suit with a white silk shirt. Probably a designer brand, but he didn't know enough about fashion to tell which. A shiny Rolex fastened on his left wrist. Manicured nails, large biceps, slim yet fit figure… someone who cared a lot about his appearance, and even just by the way he walked, Reid could tell he was an Alpha personality type.
"You're not even going to look me in the eye." The unsub leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. "You've been thinking of getting out, haven't you?"
"Of course I haven't." He had been thinking about escape since he woke up in that hole.
"Don't lie to me." The unsub was angry, but not horribly so. In the time he was gone, someone must have offended him. Judging by how obedient Angeline was despite her age, the unsub was probably abusive when his control or ideal of perfection was threatened. As long as Reid didn't openly threaten his control, he should be safe. "You have been thinking about escape this whole time. Let me explain something—"
The unsub leaned forward, reaching out and grasping Reid's wrist in a bruising grip. Reid flinched, his throat starting to close up.
"You're not the first one. If you force my hand, you won't be the last, either. I am a man with no limited means, and I know how to cover my tracks." He let go of Reid's arm, but Reid felt no safer. "As far as the FBI knows, poor Dr. Reid couldn't handle the horror of his job anymore. He ran from his team in a Dilaudid-fueled haze, and he hasn't returned in three weeks."
Reid went utterly rigid.
"Dilaudid?"
How could he possibly know about that?
The unsub didn't even smile. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Those meetings are not as anonymous as they advertise, Doctor. The point is that your 'team' found a shoebox full of your drug of choice under your bed with a used syringe by your pillow. I wonder what conclusions they drew."
That touched a nerve. His addiction had been a personal battle, and it wasn't something he had ever wanted to drag his team into. Reid's fists clenched on his knees, and he momentarily forgot the danger he was in. "I am part of a team of FBI profilers. They know I've been clean for years."
"We both know that it won't matter what they think. They are emotionally involved. What will matter is what the physical evidence points to, and right now, I doubt your bosses are feeling too confident in you."
The unsub's eyes were hard to read. He seemed completely unaffected by Reid's barely contained anger. "The point is that no one is looking for you. You have nothing to go back to except a job you'll lose in a heartbeat. This can work out if you're willing to let it." He jerked his head towards the door. "The way I see it, there is a little girl who needs someone to take care of her. You can stay and play that role in her life, living in the lap of luxury and never having to worry about money again, or you can try to escape, get killed in the process, and be dumped at an undisclosed location where your body won't be found for years. The choice is yours."
He stood up, towering over Reid. The agent promised himself silently that he would find a way out of this place.
"There will be a schedule book on the kitchen table tomorrow morning. Anything you need to know about Angeline will be in there. I have work I need to handle, but I'll be back by her bedtime to get you to your room."
Get him to his room. Shackle him up so he'll be utterly helpless. Reid took a deep breath.
The unsub stood, going to the door. Reid piped up just before he left, "I need contact lenses."
"Excuse me?" The unsub had already opened the door, but he paused to glance back at Reid.
"The glasses are useful, but they're inconvenient to maintain for long periods of time." He adjusted them on his nose, as if to prove the point. "Daily contact lenses would be good day-to-day. I can give you my prescription."
Or Angeline's prescription. Either or.
The unsub arched an eyebrow, then after a moment of consideration, nodded. "Very well. Write down your prescription information and leave it on the kitchen table for me to take in the morning."
Then the unsub was gone. Reid let out a soft sigh of relief and waited a minute until the man's footsteps receded.
Then he began sifting through some of the information he had just gathered.
The unsub was extremely organized and had investigated his intended victim with thoroughness that would make Garcia proud. It was possible that he had also investigated the other members of the BAU, and likely that he was somehow keeping tabs on the investigation. Even if it wasn't at an official capacity, Reid doubted his team would just accept his disappearance as a drugged runaway. Morgan alone had gone on a manhunt for months to find Ian Doyle, and that was just fueled by the desire for revenge. If there was a chance he was alive, Reid had faith that the entire team would pull out all the stops to find him. An unsub this organized would realize that and find a way to appear completely innocuous while still seeing how far the team is in the investigation.
Obviously, he had a lot of money. One could see that just by looking at the way he dressed and what his house looked like. He probably wouldn't risk getting his hands dirty—he likely had anonymously paid off a few people and arranged for them to take Reid. If Reid were to guess, they had probably drugged him with sleeping pills then carried him out in the middle of the night. For some reason, he was willing to go through all this trouble to get a federal agent for his child.
Reid highly doubted that was the only reason. Something in this man liked proving he was smart. Liked to control things. He made a point to tell Reid that he was not the first one and about how he had ruined his reputation—he liked power. He wasn't so reckless as to directly taunt the police, but he liked the power trip he got from this. He likely hadn't had a lot of power or control when he was growing up—maybe he was from an abusive family? It would explain why Reid hadn't seen any family photos so far…
Or maybe he had organized crime connections. Maybe he was in a criminal family. It would make sense—people usually don't just jump into abducting grown adults and murdering them without some criminal history, and this man obviously had the connections needed to pull it off…
There really were a lot of possibilities here. Luckily, Spencer Reid was a genius with a lot of patience. He would probably need to wait a few days to get familiar with the layout of the house and the extent of the security, but he would find a way out. He would find a way back home to Quantico.
He stood up, brushing himself off and straining his ears. Angeline would most likely be able to provide answers he needed, and the unsub had told her to 'practice her music'. Sure enough, after a moment of listening, he could pick up the sound of a piano.
Piano. Music. The unsub wanted her to be cultured.
Reid shuffled out of the room, glancing around and attempting to navigate the half of the house left to him. Angeline hadn't exactly given him a thorough tour—he had been more interested in asking her questions, and she… well, he supposed she was more interested in sizing him up.
Nonetheless, he explored. He found it easier to remember if he found things himself rather than with a guide. Angeline would be fine playing the piano while he investigated the house.
He weaved through the rooms without real direction, making his own mental map. As expected, the kitchen was locked again, but the fridge was stocked and there were knives put away for everything from cutting meat to slicing bread. The unsub didn't think he'd have the courage (or ruthlessness) to try using the knives to his advantage, then.
There were few windows, and those that were around were small. This place was custom built after the unsub had Angeline, and it was made to accommodate her (apparently) severe albinism. So obviously, the unsub cared enough about her to go to vast expense to take care of her.
Yet… why hadn't he shown any interest in her since Reid met them? Of course there was the token exchange and he was laying out a schedule Reid was meant to follow that revolved around her, but there was no… affection or love or even too much interest. The unsub left for the entire day, presumably to work, came back briefly to intimidate Reid and order Angeline to play music, and then left again. Admittedly, Reid wasn't a parent, but he was pretty sure that parents generally liked spending a lot of time with their kids.
Reid frowned, hunting through the part of the house he was locked inside and checking the rooms. There was an exercise room, complete with very expensive equipment, and a library full of books, many of them first editions in near mint condition. All very expensive stuff, all stuff that a small child had unfettered access to. Either the unsub had so much money that the price to replace these things was irrelevant, or he trusted Angeline to not…
…That made sense. From what Reid had seen, the unsub treated Angeline like an adult. Angeline, in turn, acted much more like an adult than a child her age should. What if that was the goal?
Reid gravitated toward the library, absently running his fingers along the spines of the books. The unsub had a child with an unusual genetic condition, a genetic condition that he seemed to want her to not feel self-conscious about, since he told her that he liked it about her and he surrounded her half of the house with paintings of similarly colored men and women. Yet despite going out of his way to accommodate and provide for her, he wanted to have someone else raise her away from other children, a male FBI agent no less. What was it about Reid that screamed 'good caretaker'? Most people in search of a caretaker kidnapped women, and women who actually had experience with children would be best. What if he was—
"What are you thinking about?"
Reid jumped at the sudden voice, spinning in place to see Angeline perched in the doorway, playing with the end of her braid. With the light filtering from the hall behind her, she looked like a spirit. He hadn't even noticed that the music had stopped.
"Oh, I was just… looking at some of the books." Reid awkwardly pulled his hand away from the shelf and shoved it into his pocket, shrugging his shoulders. The girl crept into the room. Reid couldn't help but feel compelled to stare at her face. Something niggled at the back of his mind, but he didn't have a chance to examine it.
"Darcy said you liked books." She started walking along the bookcase towards him, her eyes fixed on his face, like she was testing him. "The last one liked books too."
"The last one?" Reid swallowed past the nervous knot in his throat. "You mean the last one your dad got to take care of you?"
"Yeah. She liked books." She shrugged, finally moving her gaze to the books, a fact he was somewhat grateful for. "She didn't like me much, though."
"Oh?" He watched her carefully. He felt like they were two animals circling each other, which seemed entirely wrong after how much she had helped him. "What makes you say that?"
"She wouldn't play with me." The child ran her finger along the book spines, but she couldn't have been reading them. Most of the print was small and fancy. "And then she tried to run. Darcy told me that people only try to run when they don't like me enough to stay, and that's why he wanted to get a new one. Someone who would like me."
Reid's fingers twitched, but he swallowed the rest of his reaction. Pin her caretakers' unhappiness to a little girl? That was… horribly cruel. Was there a purpose to that, or was the unsub merely moving the blame from himself to her?
"I don't think it's true they leave because they don't like you," Reid started tentatively, unsure of how to reassure the girl. "They probably leave because they don't like this place."
"What's not to like about it? If you do what Darcy says, you never get hurt. You can have everything you want. You don't have problems. It's not sad like it is out there. Why go back to someplace you'll just be hurt at? Why wouldn't they want to stay with me?" She caught herself, looking away when her voice got higher pitched and whiny. "Sorry."
"For what?"
"Whining."
A small child apologizing for whining?
She flicked her braid over her shoulder and smoothed her face until it was neutral, a strangely adult expression that seemed more suited for Hotch than a child. "Do you like me, Spencer?"
The question wasn't entirely unexpected, but it called to mind his time in that awful pit. The feeling of his fingers brushing against her wrist as she passed little treats and extra food and water to him. Once again, he felt a rush of affection, just like he had felt when he had first seen her in the light of day, but he kept it to himself.
"Yeah, I like you." He gave her a small smile. "You don't need to worry about that."
Her neutral expression cracked. She gave him a shy, hopeful smile. He had to wonder how many 'caretakers' she had gone through, and if they were really her only company.
It couldn't hurt to spend a little time with the girl, could it?
"H-hey, has your father ever read a book to you?" Reid looked at the bookshelves, speed-reading through the titles.
"No. The one before the last read to me, but Darcy never has."
Reid found the perfect book. "Sit down for a second. I'll read to you."
Angeline cocked her head, then sat down on the ground, leaning against the side of bookshelf. Reid sat down next to her, opening up an old copy of 'Grimm's Complete Fairy Tales'.
He picked one of the happy stories. One of the ones that ended well and without blood. The Gold Children.
"A long time ago, there lived in a little cottage a poor fisherman and his wife, who had very little to live upon but the fish the husband caught."
Angeline peered over his shoulder, but when she saw there were no pictures, she tried and failed to conceal a pout, leaning back against the bookshelf once more. She listened to him anyway, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"One day as he sat by the water throwing his net, he saw a fish drawn out which was quite golden. He examined it with wonder; but what was his surprise to hear it say," Reid halted a moment, clearing his throat before speaking in a high-pitched voice, "'Listen, fisherman! If you will throw me again in the water, I will change your little hut into a splendid castle.'"
At the sound of Reid's 'fish voice', Angeline burst into very squeaky giggles, that neutral expression cracking into a big grin. Reid paused, looking at her with a smile, and then she stopped just as suddenly as she started.
She slapped her hands over her mouth, shrinking in place and smoothing out her expression as best as possible. "Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn't have laughed like that."
Reid furrowed his brow. "You don't need to apologize, Angeline. It's okay to laugh. That was what I was aiming for." He looked back down at the book, peering at her through the corner of his eye. "It's alright for a child to act childishly."
She looked at him with clear confusion. He continued the story, voicing the characters as he went. "The fisherman replied, 'What would be the use of a castle to me when I have nothing to eat?' 'On that account,' said the gold fish, 'I will take care that there shall be a cupboard in the castle in which, when you unlock it, you will find dishes containing everything to eat the heart can wish.'"
Angeline's eyes were calculating again. Sizing him up. Carefully, she sidled against him, their arms touching.
She was testing him.
He didn't flinch this time. Instead, he just flashed her a smile, then continued the story.
"'If it is so,' said the man, 'then I am quite willing to do as you please.'"
Slowly, a smile crossed her face, much more permanent than the brief one her laughter caused.
"'There is, however, one condition,' continued the fish; 'you must not mention to a living creature in the world, be it who it may, the source of your good fortune. If you utter a single word, it will at once be at an end.'"
She relaxed, resting her head against his shoulder. He found that he wasn't as uncomfortable with it as he normally would be.
"The man, upon this, threw the fish back into the water, and went home. But where his little hut had once stood now rose the walls of a large castle…"
She listened quietly with a smile on her face. She hugged his arm, and he read. He read like his mother used to read to him, occasionally stealing glances towards the little child, seeing her listening with rapt attention each time.
As he read, he remembered his mother and lying in bed while she told stories.
He kept reading, concentrating on fairytales and stories about golden flowers and men and fish.
It was one of the hardest things he had ever done, sitting back and saying nothing.
Hotch tried to hold it together, but they all could see how lost he was. Who could blame him? Reid continued to have nightmares of Haley's dead body and Jack hiding alone with Foyet in the house, and neither of them were his family.
Reid wanted to help. He wanted it more than anything. Yet it wasn't his place to.
He wasn't frightened of Hotch. Far from it; he couldn't help but cautiously consider the man some kind of parental figure. In some strange way, Hotch and Rossi were the patriarchs, the fathers of the rest of them. Reid didn't pretend to understand it; he was just glad to have a family.
It was that dynamic that rendered him incapable of pushing aside Hotch's fragile illusion of stability. He pretended it was real. He played along. He left the pep talks to Morgan and Rossi. They were the ones better equipped to do that.
His support was more subtle. He quietly interceded if it looked like a victim's family or an officer was taking out their rage on his boss, tripping over his own feet or popping in with some random tangent to distract them. He took some of the files Morgan stayed late working on, working through paperwork and insisting that Morgan take the credit. He took a leaf from Garcia's book and tried to lighten the mood of the office by playing card tricks and physics magic when he knew Hotch would see.
His support was subtle, but he had no doubt that Hotch knew what he was doing. He was doing what he had done his whole life—quietly helping a parent up after life beat them to their knees.
He only prayed that it was enough.
"'Ah,' said his father, 'we knew that your brother had been released from his trouble, for the golden lily is again erect and in full bloom.' And after this they lived in happiness and contentment for the rest of their days."
Reid closed the book, glancing down at the girl beside him. She was frowning, as if she were trying to puzzle out a difficult math problem.
"…Do fish normally give people babies?"
Reid laughed, but someone else spoke. "No, Angeline. Fish don't normally give people babies."
Reid looked up, immediately stiffening. The unsub leaned against the doorway, smiling at the girl. "It's a fairytale. Fairytales aren't always true."
Angeline smiled at the unsub, but she didn't move from Reid to hug him or anything. That was all it was. A smile. "Hi, Darcy. Didja—"
"Did you, Angeline," the unsub cut in. "Enunciate."
"Right." Angeline cleared her throat while a frown danced on Reid's face. "Did you finish that meeting?"
"Yes, I did. And I came here to see how you and the caretaker were getting along." He turned his smile on Reid. Reid didn't return it. "It looks like you're getting along well."
"I like him a lot, Darcy." Angeline clung to Reid's arm. He twisted just a little in her grip to give himself room to wrap his arm around her shoulders, allowing her to snuggle into his side. Even as he did it, he recognized the protectiveness that came with the gesture. For a moment, he worried that the mere act of trying to shield the child from him would set off the unsub.
Instead, the unsub's smile just widened. He folded his arms across his chest, looking at the tiny window placed above one of the bookshelves. "It's nighttime. You may show the caretaker around the backyard."
"Really?!" Angeline practically bounced into a standing position, taking Reid's hand and tugging him, beaming. "Come on! Come on! We get to go outside! Please, please swim with me!"
"Angeline," the unsub said sharply, his expression darkening. "Restraint."
Angeline flinched, then looked at her feet, expression smoothing, her tugs subsiding, and her voice getting softer. "I mean…"
Reid bit his lip, standing up and putting the fairytale book back in its proper place. "I'd be happy to swim with you, Angeline."
Her mouth didn't move, but Reid could see a shift in her eyes, a smile that she tried to hide. She offered her hand, palm facing the floor, as if she were holding it out for someone to kiss. Reid bent his knees to take it in his own. He looked at the unsub, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
The unsub only shrugged, smiled, and gestured for Angeline to go ahead. "Ladies first, Angeline."
She dipped her head graciously, her white braid falling past her chin, and gently tugged Reid along. This time, Reid memorized the route they took, taking note of the different paintings they passed (all depicting albino men and women, mostly women), looking at the rooms they went through, and down the stairs out of a glass door into the world outside.
The cold of the autumn night shocked his system. The grass was wet under his bare feet—it must have rained at some point that afternoon. He looked around as his eyes adjusted and Angeline continued to pull him along. She had told the truth—mounted on a platform of cement was a tall wire fence, surrounding the property. He had no doubt it was electrified.
Outside of the fence, there was thick forest with no end in sight. He glanced around, noticing that one could slip around the house. There had to be a gate—the unsub, at least, would need to get out of the house. Rubber gloves could give him the freedom to handle the gate and open it for an escape. He'd need to make sure that the glove didn't have any holes in them—and preferably find a way to insulate them—but it could work.
"The pool's sometimes cold, but I don't really mind," Angeline said, trying to keep her voice neutral and ladylike but unable to hide the enthusiasm bubbling just under the surface. Reid turned his head to look forward, noticing that the unsub had gone ahead of them.
In the fenced-in area of the yard, there was a large pool with a ladder and a diving board on the deep end. A few feet from the water sat a lawn chair with a table besides it, which the unsub sat down and reclined in. The lights lining the pool and shining from under the water threw the unsub's sharp features into relief and making his green eyes look blue. As Angeline approached, she too was affected by the fractured light shining from the pool.
Reid couldn't help but feel unsettled. In the light, she looked like she was dead, and the white dress settling around her ankles was her shroud.
The girl seemed oblivious to the effect of the light, though. She grabbed the hem of her gown, pulling it off with one motion, suddenly bare of anything but a pair of white panties. Reid's eyebrows went up in surprise, but Angeline was oblivious, instead laying the dress down on the ground and then taking a running leap into the water.
She made an impressive splash for someone so tiny.
Water sprayed both men, Reid worse than the unsub. The latter sat up in his chair, scowling as the girl resurfaced. "Angeline."
She smiled sheepishly at the unsub from the pool, pushing some hair that had escaped her braid from her face. "Sorry, Darcy." She treaded the water, turning around to look at Reid with those big icy eyes. "C'mon—"
"Come on, Angeline."
"Come on. The water's fine! Just take off your clothes and jump in."
Reid bit his lip, glancing over at the unsub. He looked irritated, but he seemed to have zero interest in staring at Angeline without her clothes on, and the only way he was looking at Reid was with a small amount of impatience.
"O-okay. Just, uh, give me a minute." Reid unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off and shivering as the air hit his bare chest, then put it on the ground with Angeline's dress and his own glasses. He wouldn't take off his pants, but he would tolerate going shirtless.
He sat at the edge of the pool and slid in.
The water was warmer than he expected, but he still shivered when it enveloped him. He felt something tickling his leg, and when he looked down, he saw Angeline swimming between his legs, coming up for a breath in front of him. "Hi there! Want to play Marco Polo?"
Reid's eyes darted to the unsub suspiciously. The unsub was just reclined in his chair, observing the people in the pool quietly.
"…Sure. Sure, I'll start."
He covered his eyes and heard Angeline dive underwater.
No one on the team understood it, but he still struggled with Dilaudid sometimes.
He never touched the stuff after his initial detox. That wasn't the problem. The problem was the cravings, burrowing into his mind like some rotten insect, spreading from his brain to his nervous system to his blood to his bones—
After Emily died, it was a struggle.
So every night, once again, he found himself at JJ's door. It was either that or his old dealer's door. JJ always welcomed him in, but she never knew how important it was that she was there.
She reminded him why he couldn't go back to drugs.
Dilaudid would only hurt his loved ones. They all already had enough pain to last a lifetime.
Now if only he could find another way to ease the pain he already had.
Reid had been right. The chains on his bed were the parts he hated the most out of this whole experience.
Every time he tried to shift, his ankles were pulled back by shackles, fixing him in place. He would not be able to move until morning, and without windows, he had no way of knowing when morning would be.
He didn't know how long he lay there, attempting to ignore the pitch blackness driving him mad, reminding him of that hellish time in that pit and trying to drag him back, enveloping him like a monster. (It was worse without movement. Worse without counting his own footsteps.) All he knew was that it was a long time until he heard the sound of little feet behind his door.
The door opened. His heart jumped in his throat, his body trying to prepare for a potential attack but unable to move from the chains—
"Are you awake?" a little voice asked. Angeline. It was just Angeline.
Reid resisted the urge to sigh in relief. "Yeah, I'm awake."
There was a click, and the monster was banished. The girl, once again ghostly in the dim light, held a flashlight. Reid pushed himself up on his elbows, squinting to look at her, and she crept towards the bed. "I had a nightmare."
"A nightmare?"
How did people usually respond to that? Reid was starkly reminded of how out of his depth he was. He babysat for his godson, but he had had instructions. He had had a phone number to call. Most of all, he had had a time limit. He had none of those things here.
He wet his lips, then patted a spot on the bed. "Well, you can sit with me for a while, if you like." He found that he'd rather she did. When there was someone else there, the darkness didn't seem so frightening.
She didn't need him to tell her twice. She crept to the bed and immediately crawled under the covers with him, completely oblivious to any sense of personal space and snuggling right up against his chest. Coming from a child, Reid really didn't mind.
"Can you tell me a story, Spencer?" she asked quietly, his name a forbidden whisper, like it didn't belong in her mouth.
"Sure." He rested his hand on her shoulders, looking at the soft glow coming from her flashlight. "What's your favorite kind?"
"Books." She peered up at him from behind a curtain of loose white hair. "The nanny before last read to me. She was my favorite. Her favorite book was something about killing mockingbirds—she said she'd read it to me, but she left before she did."
Anyone else would have told her to go dig a copy of 'To Kill a Mockingbird' up in the library at that point. Reid didn't have to. He remembered every book he had read word for word.
"Alright. I know which book you're talking about. I'll tell you the first chapter, and maybe the second if you're still not tired. After, you need to go to bed."
She nodded. He brushed some hair from her eyes, the ache in his ankles becoming less and less prominent, and he recalled a book he read a long time ago.
"When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow. When it healed, and Jem's fears of never being able to play football were assuaged, he was seldom self-conscious about his injury…"
Once again, he wasn't aware of time. This time, he didn't care.
He didn't know when she fell asleep. He just knew that he fell asleep while reciting To Kill a Mockingbird.
N/A: This work was beta'd by nutella4ever. Please review.
